


Bleeding Edge

by Sharcade



Series: Bleeding Edge [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Sexual Violence, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharcade/pseuds/Sharcade
Summary: Connor is an android. Androids aren't supposed to feel afraid, androids aren't supposed to panic, androids aren't supposed to deviate from their typical code.But then again, android were never supposed to be used for this, and here Connor was anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story contains rape and trauma.

"God, it's too late for this shit..." Hank grumbled, adjusting his rear view mirror as Connor sat idly in the seat beside him. "So what are we going into here?"

"A noise complaint, from a neighbour. She claims the offender is high on red ice." Connor briefed, swiping through the relatively small report on Hank's tablet.

"I'm coming all the way out here for a fucking noise complaint?!"

"It seems so. My apologies, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get outta the car."

As the car pulled to a stop, Connor took a brief glance outside. The house was in terrible condition, and Connor couldn't help but be slightly annoyed by the look of it. This was likely another layabout who's house was only kept in decent condition by a cleaning android. Now that androids had been granted their freedom, many of these houses were starting to look disgusting.

While most androids had taken to living lives of their own, Connor hadn't strayed far, choosing to stay by Hank's side as his partner. He had even been granted the position of assistant deputy in the office, much to the anger of Gavin, who was still arguing it to that day. Connor saw no need to change much about his life, he was happy by Hank's side. When Hank had first invited Connor to live with him, Connor could tell Hank was sceptic. He wasn't sure if Hank thought he would regret the decision or if Hank simply thought it would be offensive to invite the android to live in his house while all other androids were fleeing their owners. 

Then again, when had Hank ever cared about offending him?

Connor decided now would be a good time to get out of the car and approach the door.

"Ding dong, asshole." Hank called, ringing the doorbell a few times and pounding on the door loudly, seeming disgruntled when he got no response.

"Detroit City Police! Open up!" Connor added, ringing the doorbell. Nothing.

"Then I guess we get to go in." Hank sneered, steadying himself and raising his leg in preparation, an action Connor immediately shut down by placing his hand assuredly on Hank's leg.

"Perhaps you should allow me to manually unlock the door." he suggested, Hank giving a grumble before stepping back and leaning against the railing.

For a moment, Connor worried the rusty metal railing would break under the officer's weight, but he set the thought aside in favour of completing his task. Carefully, he set his hand on the doorknob, his LED flickering for a moment as he worked through the action of unlocking the door. After a moment, the door swung open with little protest.

"We should find the offender," Connor thought aloud, taking a step inside as Hank followed. "He has to be somewhere around here. This could be a serious case of red ice possession."

"These bastards and their fucking powder." Hank muttered, kicking a bottle that had been left carelessly on the floor. "Whaddaya say, you take upstairs, I'll look around here?"

"That sounds effective."

"Then get your ass moving."

"Sure thing Lieutenant."

Connor proceeded upstairs, taking in his surroundings. He squinted ever so slightly as his eyes moved along the walls, decorated sparsely with stains and markings. This definitely seemed like somebody who had no experience cleaning their own home. Perhaps some people needed the assistance of androids more than others.

"Show yourself," Connor called out. "You will be found regardless eventually."

He took a few cautious steps down the hallway, peering through open doors at messy rooms. A bedroom. That might be a good place to start. He entered, tentatively placing a hand on the door frame and glancing around as he stepped inside. The room smelled awful, like sweat and whiskey, and Connor felt his face scrunch slightly as he recoiled at the smell. His LED flickered, his eyes scanning his surroundings. There was traces of red ice in the carpet, the sheets were dishevelled, and the nightstand was overflowing with wrappers and bottles. It was repulsive to say the least, but it wasn't Connor's job to judge the man's living conditions.

Sighing shortly, he continued observing. The windows were shut and the television was on, a football game running quietly in the background. He ran a quick scan of the thick carpet, noting a few indents. Somebody had been walking on it recently. He followed the trail of indents, it seemed to move in an oddly frantic pattern, travelling quickly between destinations. The bed. The window. The closet. The window. The door. The closet.

Connor cocked his head to the side curiously, peering downwards as he stepped further inside, his eyes following the trail. Where was the offender? He didn't appear to have exited this room.

And that's when Connor was hit in the head.

Connor staggered forward, gasping sharply as the air was knocked out of him, his optic relays filling with static as he struggled to regain his bearings. Before he could cry out for Hank he was being hit again, this time in the stomach. He now recognised the feeling of a blunt metal object, though he couldn't pinpoint it with the damage done to his biocomponents.

"H-Hank-!" he rasped out, fear encroaching on him when he recognised the sound of the door shutting behind himself and the attacker.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, you pretty little plastic cunt."

This was a voice Connor didn't recognise, he had no clue what was going on, was this the offender? His audio input buzzed and screeched in his head, clearly damaged by the blow. He had no idea what was going on, everything was spinning, he felt a sick sense of dread rising in him. He tried to process what was happening, telling himself his memory would be uploaded if he died, everything would be okay, he needed to calm down, he needed to-

"I bet you think you're fuckin' better than me, is that it? You think you're better than me?"

He felt breath on his neck, a sick voice cutting through the static of his ears, a putrid smell wafting near him. The offender was right up next to him, talking in his ear, his voice a low growl. Acting entirely on impulse, Connor swung at him. The satisfying crack that followed let him know his punch had landed.

"You little shit, you little fucking-! Get the hell over here!" the man snapped in a hushed hiss, grabbing Connor by the hair.

"Hank-!" Connor called out again, beginning to regain his bearings as he struggled violently against the man that was now yanking him onto his feet and towards the bed. "Hank! I-I need help!"

His voice was too quiet. His voice was too quiet and the static was too loud. He could feel his breath quickening, his synthetic pulse racing as he fought back against the man.

"Keep fucking still!" the man barked, slamming Connor down on his stomach on the filthy bed. 

The smell of smoke and vomit burst into Connor's nose, disorienting him once again before the man's metal weapon connected with the back of his head. Another shot of pain. Another shot of static. Another shot of panic.

Connor could barely move, all of his systems practically flaming as they struggled to stay online with the damage that had been done to them. Then, he felt his clothes shifting. This was not what he had expected.

"Look at that, they built a pretty little ass on the pretty little robot."

Connor blinked in confusion, trying to understand why such parts of him were being inspected. This wasn't usual of an assault.

And then came the searing, white hot pain. 

He felt himself cry out instinctively, his eyelids fluttering as his gasped for breath, trying to cope with the sudden sensation. He was shaking.  _Something was inside him_.

"Yeah, keep making those noises for me, gimme those pretty little noises."

Connor felt sick. He didn't even know that was something he could feel. He knew he was struggling, but he could barely feel it in his limbs. He knew he was screaming, but it was only leaving him as a raspy whisper. His head was throbbing, he was dizzy and sick and in pain, his body felt like it had gone up in flames,  _he needed Hank to come upstairs._

"Connor, come take a look at this!" Hank's voice called from the floor below.

Connor felt all breath leaving him with every thrust this man dealt to him, _Hank, that was Hank, Hank was downstairs, Hank was calling him._

"H-Hank..." he whispered, trembling. 

He felt liquid on his body, liquid on his face, liquid coming from his eyes. Was he crying? He had to be, there was no other explanation for what he felt.

A sob left his throat.

"Yeah, that's right, cry for me, plastic fuck." the man's voice snickered, Connor tensing at his vile tones.

"Connor! Get your ass down here!"

There was Hank's voice again. Hank. He needed to get to Hank.

"H-Hank!" he cried out, startling himself with his sudden volume.

He was loud. Loud enough to be heard.

"Hank!" he repeated, choking the words out through his tears.

He could feel blue blood running down between his legs and soaking into the sheets beneath him. He was bleeding. This man was making him bleed. His LED blared red as he struggled with new found vigour, though it was nothing against the man above him. He could hear hurried footsteps trudging up the staircase. Boots. Heavy boots. Hank. He tried to cry out again, but found no sound left in him, just the methodical thrusting of his attacker falling in rhythm with the pulsing of his pain.

"Con- The fuck?!"

The next thing Connor heard was a gunshot. A single, loud pop. 

The thrusting stopped.

Connor found his breaths coming short and shaky, ringing blaring in his ears as his vision flickered with static and tears, blood leaking freely from him as his chest rose and fell against the mattress.

"Connor, oh fuck, oh fuck! Connor!"

"H-Hank-"

"Connor, holy shit-

"Hank-

"I'm here, I'm here, sit up-"

"H-Hank-"

Connor couldn't find any other words in himself. He had never had emotions quite like this. Fear? Sure. Pain? Of course. Disgust? Obviously. But never like this. He felt  _dirty_. He felt  _used._ He felt  _sick._

"H-He's dead?" Connor finally managed to croak, trying to gather his bearings as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees, a spike of pain radiating through him and causing him to falter slightly.

"He's dead son, he's dead, don't get up-"

That was all Connor needed to hear to allow himself to drop back into place, his eyelids flickering in his dazed state. He could feel the damage done to him, he could feel his systems deactivating to redistribute energy to his pulse regulator. He could feel himself passing out.

"Connor? Connor, don't you fuckin' pass out on me, Connor-!"

And then everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

When Connor first came back to full functionality, the first thing he felt was a hand on his arm. A man's hand. Without even knowing what he was doing, he jerked back, scrambling to get away from the touch, his breath beginning to come fast again.

_Why did he do that?_

"Woah, woah woah woah, Connor, it's me! It's me, calm down."

Connor looks around frantically, his vision slowly clearing. Hank. It was Hank, he wasn't in danger. This was Hank's house.  _Hank's house was safe._

"Connor, I need you to breathe, okay?" Hank coaxed cautiously, looking unsure of how to conduct himself. 

Connor didn't say a word, taking a moment to process his surroundings and collect himself. He was still breathing quickly, his pulse racing. He analysed the damage to his components: His vision was fuzzy, static occasionally streaking through his eyes. His ears had finally stopped ringing, he could hear clearly now, but the simulated pain in his head was  _throbbing._ He could hear Sumo barking from somewhere in the house, and he could see Hank directly in front of him, hand poised in the air where it had been before Connor had so violently escaped it.

"H-Hank, I-" he started, suddenly unsure of what he was supposed to say. 

Then, the memories flooded in. Being pressed into the mattress. Blood running down his thighs. Crying out for Hank. Being violated, being  _hurt_.

"Did the offender-"

"We killed the guy, Connor. He's dead."

Connor was quiet, he didn't know what to say. He had never felt this sense of shame before. He didn't quite know how to process it. Why did he feel shame? He hadn't done anything wrong, so why did he feel like he was at fault? He should have been more careful, that was it. He shouldn't have gone off without Hank. He should have fought back harder, he should have been able to get the attacker off of him,  _out_ of him. He should have been able to get away from him. It was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault.

"Connor? Connor, hey, hey." Hank started, moving his hand towards Connor before pausing, remembering what had happened last time.

Connor touched his cheek lightly, blinking in surprise when he felt the tears that had began gathering on his face. He was crying. When did he start crying?

"Lieutenant," he started, trying to collect himself enough to speak. "W-We solved the case, that's what matters. What time is it?"

"It's uh," Hank glanced at his wrist for a moment. "Almost noon."

"Then we should be proceeding to the office."

"Connor, you just-"

" _We should be proceeding to the office, Lieutenant._ "

"...Is that what you want?"

"Th-That is what I want." he confirmed.

"Alright," Hank sighed, digging his keys out from his pocket. "Guess we're going in then."

Connor forced himself to his feet, staggering slightly as pain shot up through his body. His LED flickered yellow, his face contorting slightly as he regathered his bearings.

"Woah there, easy, let's slow down." Hank coaxed, easing Connor back onto the couch. "You maybe wanna get washed up before we go?"

"Y-Yes, perhaps that would be...beneficial." Connor mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Alright, I'll run the shower for ya, stay put." Hank called back as he walked towards the bathroom, pausing to glance back at Connor. "You uh...You wanna talk about what happened back there-?"

He did. He really did. He wanted Hank to help him, to tell him what to do, to tell him why he was feeling like this. He didn't understand. But something inside him was telling him to suppress it, to be quiet, it was shameful, it was his fault, Hank would be mad at him for feeling so awful when this was all his own fault.

"I'm...alright. I'll pass. Thank you Lieutenant."

Hank didn't say another word, simply leaving to get the shower running.

* * *

"Heard you assholes got a little trigger happy last night."

Connor's attention snapped to the voice coming from behind him, it was definitely Gavin. He kept his eyes firmly locked on his screen, something about Gavin's tone worried him, something about the topic of last night made his artificial skin crawl. He didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh shove it up your ass," Hank muttered, his gaze flickering between Connor and Gavin briefly. "We did what we had to, it was self defence."

"Self defence on a noise complaint?" Gavin sneered, leaning against Connor's desk.

_Too close._

"Can you fuck off? We're trying to work over here."

"The case was handled." Connor stated, trying to deter Gavin from asking any more questions. "What's important now is moving past it and focusing on future missions."

"Who the fuck asked you?" Gavin snapped, grabbing Connor's chair and spinning it around to have Connor face him.

Connor's LED flared wildly with yellow, he didn't feel safe, something was wrong, he wasn't supposed to feel in danger. Nothing was happening to him. 

"Hey! Hands off!" Hank commanded, quickly getting to his feet.

"You're toting this fuckin' plastic asshole around like he's your damn son or some shit, Hank!"

"That's none of your goddamn business!"

"It's a fuckin' machine! Just because it thinks it has some rights now or whatever doesn't make it any less fucking artificial!"

Connor could hear the men arguing, he just couldn't process their words. He could feel panic setting in again, though he remained stoic. He was an android. Androids did not feel. He did not feel. He was okay.

And then Gavin touched him.

Before he could even comprehend why he had been touched, every sensor in his body was firing off, he kicked back quickly, his chair slamming into his desk and knocking a few items out of place as he scrambled to stand. His hand was resting on his holster. His pulse was roaring in his ears. The men weren't fighting anymore.

"Well that's new." Gavin muttered, his eyes focused on Connor's panicked form.

"Get the fuck outta here!" Hank snapped again, shoving Gavin aside forcefully.

Connor could feel his hands shaking, why were his hands shaking? Why was he panicking?

"Hank-"

"We're going home, I shouldn't have fucking brought you back to work, I shoulda known better."

"We're not going anywhere," Connor insisted. "I have to work."

Hank sighed, turning back and looking over Connor skeptically. To an untrained eye, Connor would look completely normal. A simple, emotionless android. But to Hank, he was definitely not at his top form. Hank could spot the slight tremble in his hands. Hank could spot the way Connor's eyes wouldn't quite meet his. Hank could spot the slight crease in Connor's forehead, the slight furrow of his eyebrows, Connor was displeased, Connor was uncomfortable, Connor was upset. He didn't want Connor working right now, he wanted Connor resting.

"Connor, look," he muttered, resting an elbow on Connor's desk and bending down to speak at his level. "You're not fucking okay and I'm not expecting you to be, but if you're not okay, then be not okay  _at home_. Not here."

Connor glanced downwards, taking a moment to think over the offer. He had work to finish, he shouldn't be at home right now, but in honesty, there was nowhere he would rather be than Hank's house. Hank's house was safe. Nothing would happen to him at Hank's house. Nothing would happen to him with Hank.

Before he even knew why, tears were springing to his eyes again.

"Jesus, Connor, come on, you're a fuckin' mess." Hank insisted. "Let's get the hell out of here, we can go home, we can get in some pajamas, we can have a few drinks, and you don't have to come back to this shithole until you're good and ready."

Connor wanted that more than anything.

"And if that jackass gets on your fuckin' case about it I'll-"

"Self defense?!"

Connor was startled out of his fantasy by the heavy sound of a file hitting his desk. Gavin.

"You killed the guy cuz he was fuckin' your robot?!"

His LED blared red.

"Jesus fucking Christ Reed get the hell outta here already!"

Hank. Hank was protecting him.

"What's he gonna fuckin' do, cry over it?! It's not against the law to fuck a robot! You think that was rape or some shit?! It's a goddamn machine, Hank!"

"Gavin, I swear to god, another fuckin' word out of your mouth and you're gonna be on the fucking ground."

Connor felt his breath coming quickly.

"Aw, Hank, you're scaring the damn thing."

"Wh- Connor?"

Connor couldn't focus anymore, he couldn't process their words, his breath was coming too fast, why was his breath coming so fast? He felt a deep sense of dread in him, like he might just die on the spot, like he was going to self destruct.

"Connor, hey, talk to me." Hank instructed hurriedly, kneeling down and quickly checking over Connor while Gavin sneered in the background.

"He's a fucking piece of plastic!"

"Oh would you get the fuck out of here?!"

Connor couldn't breathe. He didn't even know he needed to breathe, but the sensation of his breath coming and going too quickly was  _painful._ He felt himself become lightheaded as tears fell from his eyes into his lap, Gavin chiming in with mockery as Hank retorted back at every comment. Hank. Hank was there. He gripped Hank's shoulders, lowering his head as he continued to hyperventilate.

"Can't believe you shot the guy, who wouldn't fuck your pretty little robot toy? Isn't he  _designed_ to have a pretty fuckin' face?"

_Pretty._

_Prettyprettyprettyprettypretty._

"I-I'm not pretty." Connor mumbled, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper. "Don't call me pretty."

"Connor?"

"D-Don't call me pretty, don't call me pretty." he repeated. Every time he tried to speak, the same words came out.  _Pretty. Pretty. Pretty._

"Jesus Gavin could you get the fuck outta here?!"

"What, I don't get a turn with your pretty robot's pretty little ass?"

"Gavin!"

Connor felt sick inside.

"What the hell is going on out here?!" a booming voice cut through the arguing, effectively silencing the fight.

Connor recognized the voice as Captain Fowler.

"The hell's wrong with Connor?"

"Robot's having a meltdown."

" _Detective Reed_ won't get the fuck outta here."

" _What the hell is wrong with Connor?_ "

"We need to go home early."

"The fuck are they getting off early for?!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up already!"

_Pretty._

"S-Stop yelling-" Connor croaked quietly, gripping Hank's shoulders.

"Alright, alright, no more yelling, m'not yelling. We're gonna go home." Hank assured quietly, pressing his forehead to Connor's.

Something in Hank's tone made him feel safer. He needed to be close to Hank. He needed Hank. He needed his dad.

"Gavin, 'the fuck back your desk." the Captain barked, waving Gavin away with his hand.

Gavin didn't protest much, simply rolling his eyes and proceeding to follow instructions. Quiet. There was quiet. Connor tried to steady his breathing. He would be okay if it was quiet. No more yelling.

"Jeffrey," Hank started, carefully guiding Connor's hands off of his shoulders and standing up. "Seriously, we gotta-"

"Do what you have to do." Captain Fowler interrupted, giving Hank a curt nod and shutting the door to his office once again.

"Connor, you read me?"

Connor rapidly blinked the tears out of his vision, his breaths coming slower but shaky.

"I-I want to go home." he mumbled, making a weak attempt to stand.

"We're goin' home, we're goin' home." 

Hank carefully helped Connor to his feet, shutting the android's station off and leading him towards the exit.

"We're gonna go home, get you comfy on the couch, get Sumo comfy on your lap, that sound good?"

"Sumo," Connor commented, short and dazed.

That sounded perfect.

"Y-Yes."

"Alright. Let's get you home."

Hank's house. Hank's house was safety. Hank's house was home. Hank was safety. Hank was home.

"H-Home."


	3. Chapter 3

The drive home was quiet.

Hank didn't want to probe Connor for info, and Connor didn't want to upset Hank, so talk was scarce. It was Hank who spoke up first.

"Ay Connor."

Connor perked up, looking at his partner and tilting his head to the side.

"...You know if shit like this happens, and you're scared," Hank sighed, deep in thought as he watched the road. "You can talk to me. I'm not gonna run around telling anyone."

"As beneficial as I believe that might be," Connor started after a short pause. "I determined earlier that sharing the full extent of my processing with you would probably make you upset with me."

"What? Jesus, Connor, no, why would I be upset with you?" Hank inquired with a frown, sparing a quick glance to Connor.

"I was unable to defend myself when most necessary." Connor started, already beginning to feel that same sick feeling inside of him again. "I am at fault for the events that occurred. I thought you would find that quite angering."

The car was quiet as rain poured down on the streets.

" _Connor, are you fuckin' joking right now?_ "

"I am not."

"You think I'd get mad at you for getting fuckin' raped?"

Connor tensed slightly, his stress level jumping. He didn't like that word. It humanized the whole event. It made him feel more real. He didn't want to feel real right now, he wanted to feel nothing. 

"I assumed-"

"No, no, fuck no, don't start. Connor. I would never,  _ever_ blame you for that shit, you got it?"

"Yes but-"

"And you're  _not_ to blame."

"..."

"Connor, fuckin' listen to me. You're not to blame. It wasn't your fucking fault. Don't ever say - don't ever  _think_ \- that it was your fault."

"I-I made a mistake somewhere. Somewhere I chose a wrong option, that's why it happened." Connor replied, noting the falter in his voice.

He focused his eyes downwards, furrowing his eyebrows slightly in concern.

"Connor,  _listen to me_ , it ain't your fucking fault."

"If I hadn't gone upstairs alone-"

"Connor."

"If I had been able to reach my gun-"

" _Connor._ "

"If I had self destructed before he had-"

"Connor don't fuckin' talk like that, don't you fuckin' talk like that."

Connor was quiet, disturbed and deep in thought. Self destruction. Surely self destruction would be easier than this.

"Connor, you ever feel like shit, you ever feel like this is your fault, you fuckin' talk to me, okay? I mean it. That's a fuckin' order. You don't ever go killing yourself."

"...I-I want to talk." Connor spoke quietly.

Hank's eyes followed the road, though admittedly he was barely concentrating on his driving.

"Talk to me Connor."

"I'm feeling things I don't understand," Connor started softly. "Things I haven't experienced on this level before. Fear. Shame."

"Shame?"

"I feel sick," he continued. "I feel dirty."

"You're not dirty."

"I feel dirty inside. I feel dirty in a way that I can't get clean."

"Hell, Connor..." Hank started, blanking on what he could possibly say.

He continued to listen.

"I feel...concerned," he continued. "Things are happening that I don't understand. Sometimes my breathing gets too fast, or my pulse, sometimes I start crying."

"That's okay."

"I'm not entirely sure it is." Connor mumbled, deep in thought.

"Connor, it is. It's okay. It's okay to be scared, it's okay to panic."

"Panic-?"

"You were fuckin' hyperventilating at your desk Connor, that sounds like panic to me."

"Detective Reed used some...choice language." Connor recalled, his stress levels rising.

_Pretty._

"God, what a fuckin' asshole, makes my blood boil. Don't even fucking listen to him."

Connor was finding it harder to speak with that word on his mind.  _Pretty._ Maybe he should talk about  _pretty._

"What Gavin called me back there," he started, his voice already beginning to shake. "Pretty."

"You didn't seem to like that a whole lot."

"I-I would appreciate...never being called that." 

"Noted."

"The offender-" Connor paused, realizing he didn't know the man's name.

He didn't want to.

"He...used that word fairly frequently to describe me in ways I would prefer not to repeat."

Hank frowned, sparing another glance to Connor.

"So when Gavin was callin' you-"

"Yes, that was...less than optimal."

"Hell, Connor, you gotta tell me about this stuff, I would have shut him the hell up on the spot."

"To keep your disciplinary record clean, it would benefit you to leave Detective Reed be."

"Not gonna happen." Hank smirked, almost as if it was comical.

A silence hung in the air for a while. Connor had so much left to say, and no idea how to say it.

"I...I feel very lost." he stated simply.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know how to process this." Connor mumbled. "Any of this."

Hank pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine and parking his car. Connor unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out gracefully. There was too much on his mind to think clearly right now, and he had never been in that position before. He was scared. He was permanently scared, was there a word for that?

"Hey. C'mere."

Connor was jolted out of his thoughts, glancing over at Hank.

" _C'mere."_

Connor approached Hank. Carefully, Hank raised his hands, showing innocent intention. He wasn't going to hurt Connor. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to Connor. Carefully, Hank put his arms around Connor, pulling him into a hug. He stroked Connor's hair gently. Hank was being gentle. It was all so gentle. Connor couldn't seem to find words for this moment, no words seemed good enough to express his gratitude. He needed this. He needed Hank, he needed his dad, he needed  _comfort._

"You're gonna be okay son."

"I-I'm gonna be okay."

"You're gonna be okay."

Connor could feel his emotions completely overwhelming him, this wasn't like him, this wasn't normal, was this what it was to deviate? He was startled out of his thoughts by a noise escaping him, a sob. He was completely overwhelmed. He was crying again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Hank coaxed, rubbing Connor's back. "It's okay."

"I-I want it to stop," Connor sobbed quietly against Hank's shoulder. "I want it to stop, I-I can't handle this-"

"You can handle this. You're so fuckin' good at handling things, Connor. You can handle this. I'm not gonna make you go through this alone."

"I-I shouldn't be feeling this way!"

"But you  _are._ "

Connor paused, dwelling on the statement for a few moments as he allowed his tears to pour freely. He wasn't supposed to feel this way, but he  _did._ So now what? How was he supposed to handle emotions he was never built to understand?

"Let's get out of the rain, okay?" Hank murmured, guiding Connor inside by the hand.

In Hank's mind, this was almost sickly comical, he hadn't taken care of such an innocent mind like this in years. Connor was practically a child. Practically his child. It was bittersweet that this is how they had to grow closer, over tragedy. He shut the door behind himself and Connor, lowering Connor onto the couch. The android was shivering, Hank noted.

"Hot shower?" he offered.

"I...think I'll just change. Maybe tonight." Connor replied quietly. 

This morning's shower had been a strange experience. As soon as he had stripped down, he felt exposed. He felt much, much too exposed. He felt like his disgusting body was on display. He didn't want to feel those odd sensations again.

"Alright, but I'm making coffee. You're cold as hell." Hank insisted, turning his back to Connor to enter the kitchen.

"Lieutenant?"

"The hell do you want?" Hank asked casually, setting his hand on the wall and looking back at Connor.

"The other liquid you made for me on Tuesday-"

"Hot chocolate, go on?"

"Well, perhaps-"

"You want hot chocolate Connor?"

"...That would be optimal."

"Alright, on it." Hank chuckled half-heartedly, turning back into the kitchen.

Connor stood carefully, still feeling unsteady on his feet. Stress had been causing him to feel clumsy lately. He had been paying close attention to his movements. He walked to Hank's room, opening his closet to reveal Connor's section of clothing. There wasn't much, as Connor's clothes hardly ever needed to be washed or changed, but Hank insisted on getting him a few outfits besides his typical suit. Connor had to admit, pajamas were comfortable. If it was seen as socially acceptable, he would probably choose to stay in pajamas as his primary wear. 

Carefully, he pulled his blazer off of his torso, folding it neatly and setting it down on Hank's hamper. It didn't need to be washed, but it did need to be dried. He proceeded to strip himself of the rest of his clothing, growing slightly uncomfortable as he felt that same sense of exposure set in on him again. He spared his body a quick glance in the mirror, and admittedly, he didn't like what he saw. He never used to have any opinions on himself or his assigned body, but now he found himself sickening. That was the body that had been penetrated. That was the body that had bled. That body had been violated, it was disgusting, it was sickening. He shook his head slightly, ignoring the thought as he changed into the fresh pajamas. He felt okay. He would feel okay if he was covered.  _Stay covered._

"Connor? You all good in here?" Hank inquired, glancing into the bedroom.

Connor's brow was furrowed, his eyes focused analytically on his own body in the mirror.

"Connor?"

"Apologies. I'm alright. I got momentarily distracted."

"Alright," Hank began skeptically. "Well anyway, get your ass back in the living room."

Connor nodded, breaking his gaze and following Hank back to the couch.

"Alright, get comfy."

Connor tilted his head quizzically, sitting on the couch.

"Lay down."

Connor followed instructions, putting his feet up on the couch and propping his back against the throw pillows behind him.

"Alright stay there." Hank insisted, leaving briskly.

Connor stayed still, waiting curiously.

"Bam, fresh out of the drier." Hank boasted, draping a blanket over Connor. 

Instantly, a feeling of warmth and ease washed over Connor. Heat had always made him feel safer. Probably because cold made him feel so miserable. Cold would always bring him back to the cutting winds of his mind palace. Warmth was human. Warmth was Hank. Warmth was home.

"Sumo!" Hank called, reaching down to pat Connor's leg before pausing and glancing at Connor, raising an eyebrow as if to request permission to touch him.

Connor nodded slightly.

"Sumo!" Hank repeated, patting Connor's lap. 

The dog came bounding in, jumping onto the couch and collapsing in a drooling huff on Connor's legs. Connor couldn't help but crack a small smile, reaching down to scratch the dog. Sumo would always be a comfort. He liked dogs.

"And, final touch." Hank stated, handing Connor his hot chocolate with three small marshmallows floating in the mug. 

Hank had really gone all out for him.

"Just relax for now, alright? Be comfy. You want me to leave?"

"No!" Connor exclaimed hurriedly, surprising Hank slightly. "No, n-no, stay."

"Okay, not goin' anywhere.”

"Thank you."

"Hey Connor?"

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"You're gonna be fine, okay?"

"...Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Don't mention it."


	4. Chapter 4

The house was quiet.

"Connor?"

No response.

"Connor, you good?" Hank repeated, pulling himself off the floor and to his feet, stretching.

No response.

Hank glanced down at the couch, Connor's eyes were shut. He was sleeping. Hank didn't even know androids could sleep, honestly, but he was learning new things about Connor every day. He glanced at the clock, wondering how long he'd been out on the floor. It was almost two in the morning. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and sighing. Was it worth waking Connor up to get him in a proper bed? He didn't look uncomfortable by any means, but Hank definitely was. As much as he wanted to get into bed, he also didn't want to leave Connor alone.

"Hank..."

"Eh?" Hank glanced down curiously. Connor was definitely still asleep, though his brow was furrowed.

"Upstairs..."

_Shit._

"Connor, hey. C'mon." Hank addressed, snapping his fingers in front of Connor's face.

"M'up here..."

"Connor, come on, wake up." he repeated, raising his voice slightly.

Connor's eyelids fluttered open, his eyes taking a moment to readjust. He seemed momentarily confused, calming slightly as he recognised his surroundings.

"My apologies Lieutenant. I did not mean to fall asleep. Did I disturb you?"

"No, no, don't worry about it." Hank sighed groggily, itching his beard. "Just worried about ya son."

Connor found safety in that word. He liked that word. He liked it when Hank called him that word.

"You have a nightmare there?"

"Androids are not technically capable of dreaming, Hank. It was more like..." Connor paused and contemplated. "A replay of memories."

"Not very good memories then?"

"Fairly bad memories."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"You seem quite tired, it would probably be best for you to go to bed. I wouldn't want to keep you from getting your recommended eight hours of nightly rest."

"If you say so. I'm going to get into bed then, 'kay?"

Hank noticed the way Connor tensed at the realisation that he was going to be left alone.

"...Okay."

"You sure that's okay?"

"It's okay. Go to sleep."

"...Fine, but if you fuckin' need me for  _anything_ , wake me up."

"Understood."

Connor listened as Hank's footsteps faded down the hallway, something about the sound unnerved him. He frowned slightly, trying to draw a connection between the sound and his feelings. Right, Hank's footsteps, Hank's heavy boots on the staircase, Hank running to follow his cries while Connor was being-

He blinked rapidly, clearing the thought from his head.

"Sumo." he called meekly, patting his lap. 

The dog trudged over from his bed, once again flopping down in Connor's lap less than gracefully. As comforting as Sumo was, Connor couldn't do much to shake the feeling of fear that was starting to wash over him. He was alone. What if something happened? What if he took another hit and couldn't call for Hank? He tried to purge himself of the thought, this was Hank's house, nothing was going to happen to him in Hank's house. He was safe here.

But maybe it wasn't the house that made him feel safe here.

"You're a good dog," Connor mumbled, stroking Sumo gently. "You're very soft."

He couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity he was left with. So many little things about him seemed to have changed. He especially didn't like the way he felt when he looked at himself, he had never had such strong opinions on his appearance before. Now he didn't want to be in his body at all. He could also safely say that he wasn't a fan of the random bouts of overwhelming emotion. Maybe self destruction truly would be easier than this.

_That's a fuckin' order._

The words echoed in his head. He was thinking about self destruction, he needed to go talk to Hank.

"Sumo, off." Connor requested, carefully pulling his legs out from under the dog, who jumped off the couch in reply.

Taking a shaky breath, Connor stood. If he went and got Hank, Hank might get upset. He wouldn't want to be woken up after just falling asleep, surely. If he went and self destructed without waking Hank up, then Hank wouldn't have to deal with it until he had gotten his full eight hours of rest. Would Hank be upset if he self destructed though? Did Hank find Connor as disgusting as Connor found himself? Was he a burden, keeping Hank from working and relaxing and  _sleeping?_

He blinked in surprise as tears dropped from his eyes and hit the carpet. He really had to stop doing that. He let out a breath, finally resigning to waking Hank. He had been given an order. He had to follow it. Quickly wiping his eyes, he proceeded down the hall to Hank's room, quietly opening the door and peering inside. Hank was fast asleep.

"Lieutenant?" he mumbled.

Nothing.

"Hank."

He was being too quiet.

Reluctantly, he stepped into the room, approaching the bed and sitting on the empty side of it.

"Lieutenant."

Hank muttered something under his breath, opening his eyes and squinting up at Connor.

"Wh's'wrong?" he slurred, obviously barely awake. 

"I'm...having troubling thoughts."

"C'mere." he mumbled, gesturing for Connor to lay down.

Connor tilted his head slightly and did as instructed. Hank pulled the blanket back up over Connor, resting an arm around the android and closing his eyes again.

_Warm._

"Talk to me."

"I caught myself considering self destruction again."

"Hell, Connor, no..." Hank muttered, pulling Connor in closer. "Don't do that, don't ever do that. You're gonna be fine."

"Y-Yes, but, it would be easier to-"

"Nobody said any of this was gonna be easy Connor, hell. It's not gonna be easy. But you always accomplish your mission, right? I've seen you get  _shot_ pullin' that shit off."

"This is worse that being shot." Connor replied, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I know it is." Hank sighed, opening his eyes again. "I know. But you gotta be strong for me here."

"I-It's hard."

He could feel tears building again.

"I know it's hard. But you can't kill yourself."

"I-I didn't want to wake you."

"You can always wake me up if you're scared."

"I-I'm scared of dying. I'm scared of how I feel."

"Then I'm glad you woke me up." Hank murmured, stroking Connor's hair.

"Am I disgusting?"

"What? Hell, Connor, no, of course not."

"A-Am I burdening you?"

"Connor, Christ, no, don't ever think that."

Connor felt his breaths hitch, he was definitely crying again. He felt like he was doing that a lot lately. It only made him feel more ashamed of himself.

"You're gonna sleep in my bed tonight, alright?"

"I-I am?"

"I want to keep an eye on you. Don't want you runnin' off and doing anything fuckin' stupid. Do you want Sumo in here?"

Connor nodded shakily.

"Sumo!" Hank called, the dog immediately bounding in and hopping up onto the foot of the bed. "Lie down."

The dog flopped over obediently.

"Connor, don't you ever fuckin' kill yourself, alright? We can talk like this as many times as you need to, okay? Don't you go and pull that shit on me."

Connor nodded again, staying quiet and wiping his eyes.

"You wanna get some sleep?"

"Y-Yes. It would be best to rest if we intend to go in to work tomorrow morning."

"Hell, Connor, you really wanna work?"

"I want normalcy." he replied quietly.

"...Fine, but just be patient with yourself, alright?"

Connor decided that was the best advice that Hank could have given.

"Alright."

* * *

When Connor's eyes snapped open, sun was already coming through a crack in the bedroom curtains, and Hank wasn't next to him anymore.

"Hank?" Connor called, quickly sitting up and looking around frantically.

"M'here!" Hank called back from the living room, the sound of the television humming softly in the background.

Connor breathed a sigh of relief, standing and carefully making the bed. He always made Hank's bed when he had the chance to. He liked things tidy, orderly. 

"It's ten thirty, figured we'd go in whenever you felt like it." Hank called back to Connor.

"I'll get dressed and then we can go." Connor replied, glancing at himself in Hank's mirror.

He didn't want to change his clothes again. Is that something he should talk to Hank about? Sighing, he reluctantly pulled his shirt off, trying to avoid the sight of himself. He hung it up neatly in the closet, and his pants soon followed. After an awkward few moments, he was properly dressed, only looking in the mirror momentarily to check his hair.

"I'm ready to go." Connor stated, stepping into the living room and glancing at Hank.

"Alright, let's get a move on." Hank yawned, grabbing his keys from the table and standing.

Connor followed Hank obediently out to the car, buckling himself into his seat and glancing out the window.

"So there's somethin' I kinda wanted to chat about." Hank began, pulling out of the driveway and onto the street.

"Please, proceed."

"So the whole... _things that make you uncomfortable_   _now_ deal, I feel like I should probably know what I should and shouldn't do here."

"Well..." Connor paused, considering the matter. "Like I said last night, please do not say-"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember, you don't gotta say it."

"Thank you Lieutenant."

Connor couldn't help but calm a little, it felt good to have Hank care about how he felt.

"I would also appreciate you keeping your volume and temper down."

"Why's that?"

"It just...causes me to panic, I believe." Connor explained, though he couldn't quite pin why. "I think perhaps it's the aggression of it that makes me...uncomfortable."

"Well, you don't gotta know why, don't worry about it. I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"

"Please do not grab or touch me unexpectedly."

"'Course not."

"Please do not remove any of my clothing."

"The fuck would I do that for?"

"I do not know."

"Alright, well, not gonna do that regardless."

"Lieutenant, I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing."

"Yeah, well, don't mention it."

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"Do you care about me?"

"Fuck, Connor, seriously?"

"Yes."

"Of course I care about you."

"I appreciate that."

"Yeah, whatever."

Connor was quiet for the rest of the drive, he found himself quiet often lately. He had a lot to think about. The truth was, he didn't want to think about any of it anymore, it had been thought over a million times in his head. He was done with it. But his mind always seemed to go back to the same topics.

Finally, Hank pulled up to the police department, parking the car.

"Lieutenant?"

"What is it now?" Hank yawned, unbuckling his seat belt.

"If Detective Reed starts a conflict today, what would you like me to do?"

"Kick his ass."

"Lieutenant."

"Hell, tell me. I'll kick his ass."

"I believe we should avoid kicking any asses."

"Tell me anyway. I'll handle him."

"Thank you Lieutenant."

And with that, they entered the building, Connor's eyes still finding themselves drawn to the ground. Normalcy.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hank. In my office."

Hank sighed in frustration, standing up and looking over at Connor.

"You gonna be okay for a few minutes?"

Connor glanced up from his work, peering over his shoulder at Gavin in his desk before looking back up at Hank.

"Can I come with you?" he pleaded quietly.

"I gotta go alone. If Detective Fuckface bothers you, you fuckin' come get me, Jeffrey be damned."

Connor frowned slightly. Gavin was waiting for him to be alone, he could tell. He didn't want to be alone with Gavin. He wanted to follow Hank.

"Hank! Get your ass in here!"

"Stay put." Hank instructed, quickly proceeding to Captain Fowler's office.

He closed the door behind him, flopping down in one of the free chairs as Captain Fowler typed away on his screen.

"The fuck you need me for?" Hank questioned, folding his arms.

"How's Connor been?"

Hank paused, not having expected the question.

"I read the case file, Hank."

"Christ Jeffrey, if you're about to give me shit for killin' that guy-"

"I'm not." Captain Fowler interrupted, raising his hand to silence Hank. "I'm gonna trust your judgement."

"Let's hurry this shit up, I don't wanna leave him out there alone for too long."

"Tell me how he's been."

"A fucking mess, Jeffrey. Kid's been so out of it he's barely functioning."

"And he's still working?"

"He's insisting on it."

 

"There's not much we can do for him here." Fowler mused, tapping his pen against the desk. "Gavin was bothering him the other day?"

"He was being fucking psychotic. He was saying he wanted to fuck him."

" _Pardon?"_

"He said he wanted to fuck him."

"...We'll address that." Fowler affirmed, resuming his typing.

"Are we done?"

"Is there anything else I should know?"

Hank thought for a moment.

"Jeffrey, you better let me take care of that kid, cuz if he goes and gets himself hurt because you wouldn't let me get outta here early or some shit, so help me-"

" _I got it_. You do what you have to do. Take care of Connor. He's just as much of an officer as any of us."

"Damn right."

"Let me know if Detective Reed causes you any issues."

"Oh I fuckin' will." Hank answered, leaving the office promptly. 

He walked back to his desk, quickly glancing at Connor to make sure his android hadn't suffered any harm at Gavin's hands while he was gone. Connor looked unnerved, staring straight down at his desk, resting on his elbows with his lips pursed. Gavin was leaning back in his desk, feet kicked up, twirling a marker between his fingers idly as Hank passed him. The closer Hank got, the more nervous he could see Connor clearly was, his LED glowing red. Something had happened. 

"You need to go home?" Hank muttered, leaning over Connor's desk, asking the very first question on his mind.

"M'okay." Connor mumbled quietly, his voice unsteady. 

"Did he touch you?"

"I-I'm okay."

"Did he fuckin' hurt you Connor?"

" _I-I'm okay._ "

He caught sight of Connor's mussed shirt collar. Something was under his shirt. Squinting, Hank glanced back at Gavin, the marker still dancing in his fingers. 

"Did he fuckin' write something on you?"

Connor didn't respond to that question.

Hank sighed shortly. He couldn't exactly pull back Connor's shirt and look, Connor would panic. 

"Connor," he started, getting the android's attention. "I'm gonna look at what he wrote, okay? I'm not doing anything else. I'm just going to look at what he wrote."

Though hesitant, Connor gave a slight nod, his LED flickering as Hank's hand met with the back of his neck, tugging his collar down just enough to see what had been written.

It was in fat black writing right between his shoulders:  **Prettyboy.**

Hank was seething.

"Gavin, you think this is some kind of fucking joke or some shit?!" he snapped, grabbing Gavin's chair and yanking it backwards.

"Calm the fuck down, I just wrote on your goddamn toy!" Gavin retorted, quickly jumping to his feet to avoid being yanked to the floor along with his chair.

_Too loud._

"Why can't you just mind your own goddamn business?! For  _this one fucking time?!_ "

"You're getting worked up over fucking nothing!"

_They were yelling again._

"You call this shit nothing?! What kind of fuckhead does that?!"

"Big fucking deal, I called your robot pretty, who gives a fuck?!"

"I'm not pretty!" Connor snapped, standing abruptly and slamming his hands down on his desk.

The two men were silent in surprise, Connor's breaths coming fast and shaky.

"I-I'm not pretty." he repeated, quieter. "I'm not."

Taking the brief pause of silence, Connor stormed past the men, gunning for the men's bathroom. He needed privacy. He needed quiet.

"Connor-"

He ignored his partner's frantic attempt at calming him, instead proceeding straight to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Quiet. It would have been silent, but his breathing was erratic, and his pulse was drumming loudly in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to free himself of the sick thoughts in his head. Pretty. He hated it, he hated it more than anything,  _pretty._ It enraged him that such a minor word could shake him this much. 

He entered a stall, locking the door firmly behind him and leaning against it. He swallowed thickly, trying to slow his breathing. He needed to calm down. He just wanted to calm down. He wanted to calm down and stay that way, no more crying, no more panic, no more memories. Calm. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, his hands trembling at his sides.

And then he heard footsteps.

His heart dropped in his chest. Somebody was in here with him and he was on his own. He knew there was so little risk involved in using the DCPD bathrooms that it was laughable, but his stress levels still spiked to a startling high. Footsteps. That was another thing he believed he wouldn't be comfortable with any time soon.

"...Ay. Connor."

_Gavin._

"D-Detective Reed." he mumbled shakily, trying his best to be civil.

"The uh, the way you freaked back there was, um..." Gavin paused. "Pretty human."

Connor's breath hitched.

"Or- I mean- Not like that, not  _pretty_ like that, I mean it was- It was human-ish. Realistic."

"I fail to see your implication."

"You um...you're pretty fucked up over this, huh?"

Connor could almost hear sympathy in his voice. Well, more pity than sympathy, if anything. 

"I'm sorry."

Connor hadn't expected to hear that.

"I didn't - I mean - I just - I didn't realise, okay? I don't get all this android shit. I didn't know you could feel like that."

Connor stayed silent.

"Hank told me that you were a fuckin' disaster over all this, I dunno, I felt bad, okay?"

Silence.

"...I'm sorry."

Connor was wary. Detective Reed had proven to be less than trustworthy. Regardless, he seemed genuinely sympathetic to Connor's plights. 

"You want me to get that marker off?"

_Yes._

Meekly, Connor unlocked the bathroom stall, glancing at Gavin slightly. The detective had a fairly noticeable nosebleed, and it didn't take a genius to guess who had hit him. Connor worried for Hank's disciplinary record. He watched as Gavin ripped a few paper towels from the nearby dispenser, soaking them in water and soap before wringing them out over the sink.

On one hand, Connor was eager to remove the ink from his back, it was sickening him, he wanted it gone immediately. On the other hand,  _Detective Reed touching him_ was going to be less than ideal.

"Can I- I mean like- Is it okay if I move your shirt or-?"

Connor chose to remain in control.

Carefully, he reached back and adjusted the shirt and blazer on his own.

"Alright, there we go." Gavin muttered, touching the towels to Connor's neck.

Immediately, Connor flinched, screwing his eyes shut and doing his best to maintain his breathing. 

 _Cold_.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, it's just gonna be a second."

This was still an extremely confusing experience for Connor. Detective Reed was never nice to him, why was Detective Reed being so  _nice_ to him? Was it pity? Was it guilt?

"There. It's off."

Connor blinked his eyes open, surprised that the experience had gone by so quickly. He was okay. 

"I'm gonna just- I'm gonna go back to work, okay?"

"Affirmative."

Gavin paused, sighing with his hand on the doorknob.

"Look, I've worked a fuckton of cases like yours, I've seen ladies on the ground in tears and shit a million times, I just- I didn't know that could happen to androids. I didn't get it. I was fuckin' stupid, and I'm sorry. You don't gotta like me now or anything, but I'm sorry."

Connor thought that sounded fair.

"Detective Reed." he spoke, interrupting Gavin's attempt to leave.

"Yeah-?

Connor turned, looking at Gavin and giving him a curt nod.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever, don't make a big fuckin' deal out of it."

"Affirmative."


	6. Chapter 6

What Connor wanted most was for the rest of the work day to be completely normal. No surprises, no events,  _normalcy_. But if there was one thing Connor had learned from the past few days, it was that he should never expect  _anything_ anymore.

"Hank, Connor, in my office."

Hank groaned loudly, voicing his obvious displeasure and making sure Captain Fowler heard it.

"Alright, c'mon." 

Connor quickly sprang to his feet, glad he wasn't being left behind this time. Even though Gavin seemed to have come around to some degree, Connor definitely did not want to be alone with him. Trailing Hank, he entered Fowler's office and took a seat. Fowler was focused on his screen, his fingers waiting above the touchpad keyboard.

"Connor," he started, the android perking to attention. "I'm gonna need you to tell me exactly what happened on your noise complaint."

"Jeffrey, the hell is this?" Hank snapped.

"I need the information for the report,  _Hank._ "

Hank sighed, scratching his beard.

"And he has to tell you  _everything?_ "

"I'm gonna need as much info as possible."

Connor took a deep breath.

"Lieutenant Anderson and I arrived on the scene at 11:47 PM." he began, Hank watching him protectively. "We were following a noise complaint made by the offender's neighbour. We were also under the assumption that the offender was high on red ice."

"Alright, continue."

"We attempted to ring the doorbell, but received no response, so I was forced to manually unlock the door. The house was in complete disarray."

"Probably another fucker who lost a maid." Hank muttered.

"Lieutenant Anderson suggested that he search the main floor while I searched upstairs." Connor parroted.

He was beginning to feel anxious. He didn't like recounting these events, especially not out loud for a record. He folded his hands in his lap. His LED flickered yellow.

"I began my search with what I presume to be the offender's bedroom. I entered the room, and was struck in the back of the head with a blunt metal object."

_Pain. Confusion. The deafening ringing in his ears, the deafening static._

Connor swallowed.

"I called for Lieutenant Anderson and found that my voice module had been badly damaged. The offender then shut the door behind us."

Hank folded his arms and looked down.

"Did you hear him calling?"

"Not a fuckin' thing." Hank muttered.

"The offender then-" Connor paused.

_Shut your fuckin' mouth, you pretty little plastic cunt._

He was quiet for a moment, his breathing growing shakily as his pulse sped up. Did he have to repeat those words out loud?

"Connor?"

"H-He then said,  _shut your fuckin' mouth, you pretty little plastic cunt._ " Connor repeated. 

He felt deeply, deeply sick. Tears were building in his eyes again.

"Jeffrey, you don't think this is a little fuckin' much?" Hank hissed.

"I think it's invasive and ridiculous, but it's procedure." Fowler muttered, typing down Connor's story.

"I realised that my audio processor was badly damaged, as I could barely hear anything at that moment. The offender then asked me if I thought I was better than him, to which I did not reply."

"And then?"

"I attempted to strike the offender, hitting him in the face and presumably breaking his nose."

"Atta boy."

"Hank. Be quiet."

"He became enraged, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me to his bed. I called for Hank twice more during this time, and my voice was still t-too quiet."

His voice was shaking.

"I-I attempted to fight back and failed. I was told to keep still, and then was forced down onto my stomach on the offender's bed."

"Jeffrey, fill in the fucking blanks,  _that's enough_."

"I-I was struck again in the back of the head and my pants were pulled down." Connor continued, his hands trembling. 

He could feel tears beginning to roll down his face.

"I-I-" he started, his breath hitching. "I-I do not want to repeat the next quote, please do not make me repeat the next quote."

"You can skip it." 

"Thank you." he mumbled, taking his coin out of his pocket and fiddling with it lightly in his fingers. 

He found it a fairly good distraction from the words coming out of his mouth.

"Th-The offender then proceeded to penetrate me anally." he stated, his voice cold and clinical. "It was nauseatingly painful."

Hank flinched at the recount.

"I believe I reacted vocally, because the offender proceeded to-" Connor paused and swallowed. "To urge me to continue making  _pretty little noises._ "

"Fucking Christ..." Hank muttered.

"I continued struggling, but the damage done to my biocomponents was impairing me. I also continued screaming. However, my voice was still too quiet. Lieutenant Anderson called for me at this point, and I attempted to call back, but again, my voice was too quiet."

Fowler's brow furrowed. Both men looked deeply disturbed by Connor's recount.

"I-I...believe I was crying at that moment." Connor continued.

 _You're crying right now_ , he noted to himself.

"The offender instructed I continue crying. Lieutenant Anderson then called for me again. I attempted to call back, and my voice module seemed to have been repaired, as I was able to speak at full volume. Because I found myself able to yell again, I repeated my call."

His hands were shaking badly, his breathing was unsteady, his pulse was hammering. He wanted to stop talking. Hank reached over, gently taking Connor's hand.

"You're doin' great kid. Breathe."

Connor took a shaky breath, closing his eyes and focusing on the warmth of Hank's hand. This was important to the report.

"I-It then came to my attention that I was bleeding."

"Bleeding?"

"Anally."

"Right, sorry, continue."

"I continued attempts to escape the offender until I heard Lieutenant Anderson approaching. I tried to call for him again and seemed to have once again lost my voice."

"And then?"

"Hank entered the room and shot the offender." Connor mumbled, his gaze growing distant. "I was crying and I couldn't catch my breath."

Hank gave Connor's hand a gentle squeeze.

"After confirming the death of the offender, I fell unconscious."

"He passed out." Hank chimed in. "I called for backup and got him dressed again. Then we went home."

"Thank you for your cooperation. I'm sorry I had to ask this of you."

Connor felt sick and shaky.

"Take as much time off as you need." Fowler sighed, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "If there's anything I can do, tell me. You're an officer too, Connor. We're gonna respect you here."

"Thank you Captain."

"Shut the door on your way out."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hank sighed, standing up and stretching. "Connor, let's get the fuck outta here."

Connor stood quietly, following Hank out of the office and carefully shutting the glass door behind him. His stress levels were critical, and his trembling hands didn't do much to hide that fact.

"I-I would like to step outside for a moment." Connor mumbled shakily, balling his hands into fists as if it would quell the shaking.

"You want me to come?"

"Y-Yes please."

Hank nodded, taking Connor's hand again and walking him past the rows of desks. Connor could feel Gavin's eyes following him, probably more curious than malicious, but still uncomfortable. The second Hank had Connor out of the building, he pulled him into a tight hug, Connor's resolve instantly shattering as he clung to his partner weakly.

"You did good, kid." Hank soothed, stroking Connor's hair as Connor cried against his shoulder.

"I-I feel  _sick-_ " 

"I know, I know, but you did good."

Connor didn't reply, crying quietly against Hank's heavy jacket, not even trying to restrain himself anymore.  _He needed this._ He needed release. He hiccuped, his breath hitching occasionally. He didn't want advice right now. He didn't want to be calmed. He wanted to get these emotions  _out of him_. If he couldn't feel okay, he wanted to feel  _nothing._

He would feel nothing if he self destructed, wouldn't he?

"I-I'm scared," he sobbed against Hank's shoulder. "Hank, I'm scared-"

"Hey, hey, why are you scared?" Hank murmured, pulling back and looking Connor in the eyes.

Something about seeing Connor like this was absolutely heartbreaking.

"I-I'm scared of dying."

"Connor, don't tell me you're thinkin' about killing yourself again."

" _I-I don't want to feel anymore._ "

"This is gonna pass. I'm not losing another son."

Connor was quiet, thinking over Hank's words and sniffling quietly. He wouldn't want to cause his partner any emotional distress. 

"I'm gonna help you, okay? For as long as you need me to. You don't have to do this alone."

Hank pulled Connor back into the hug.

"I-I don't want to die."

"You don't have to die."

"Y-Your arms are warm."

"Eh?"

"Y-You're warm." Connor mumbled, sniffling and wrapping his arms tightly around Hank.

Hank sighed in defeat, hugging Connor back tightly.

What a world.

* * *

Connor sleeping in Hank's bed was beginning to become a regular occurrence. Connor would insist he would be fine alone, Hank would fall asleep, and twenty minutes later, the android was in his bed, in his arms, shaking. Hank didn't mind so much, but his sympathy for Connor was immeasurable. This night in particular, however, Connor hadn't arrived in Hank's bed like usual. Hank's body had gotten used to waking up at this point, so when he woke up to nothing, the only surprise was that Connor wasn't in his bed. On one hand, he wondered if the android was finally starting to recover. On the other hand, he worried that Connor was doing something stupid right now. Deciding he was better safe than sorry, Hank sighed, reluctantly getting out of bed.

"Connor!" he called, rubbing his eye.

No response. That was bad.

"Shit, shit." he muttered, hurrying out of his room and down the hall, looking around. Where the hell was Connor? What if he had run off to kill himself? Hank's stomach dropped. He quickly shook that thought away.

"Connor, 'the fuck are you?!" he called again, looking around.

His eyes locked on the window. He could barely see Connor's hair, just poking over the window frame. He was sitting out in the backyard. Sighing in relief, Hank walked out to join him.

Connor was situated on a small deck chair of Hank's, just under the overhang of the roof. It was pouring rain outside, though Connor was protected from it. He was staring blankly forwards, lost in thought.

"Connor, Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry Lieutenant." Connor answered coldly.

"What's the matter?"

"Thinking."

"Bad thinking or good thinking?"

"Bad thinking."

"Killing yourself?"

Connor shook his head.

"Then what's the deal?"

"Maybe I wanted it."

"What?" Hank muttered, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

He hadn't heard Connor's thoughts go down that path before.

"Of course you didn't want it, why the hell would you think that?"

"Androids are built to be subservient." Connor stated. "Maybe I wasn't fighting hard enough because I secretly wanted it."

"Connor, don't even fuckin' think like that, of course you didn't want it."

Connor was quiet, still lost in his own head.

"When is this going to be over?" he asked quietly.

"Closure's not an easy mistress," Hank sighed, following Connor's eyes into the rainy yard. "Can't say for certain."

"If I really did want it, did we kill an innocent man?"

"You  _didn't_ want it and  _we killed a rapist._ "

"He wasn't a rapist." Connor corrected. "I'm not a person."

"You are a fuckin' person. Just because you ain't human doesn't mean you're not a fucking person."

"Doesn't it?"

"No way in hell. Connor, it took us this fuckin' long to realise how  _alive_ you were, humans are idiots, but at the very fuckin' least I know that  _you're sentient._ "

"I...suppose so." Connor thought aloud. "Though maybe it would be easier if I wasn't."

"Hell, life would be a lot fuckin' easier for  _anybody_ if they weren't sentient." Hank muttered. "But you are. You're alive and you feel and you think. So tell me Connor, what is it you feel? What is it you think?"

Connor thought about that question for a moment.

"I feel...tired." he responded. "Tired and lost."

Hank listened. Connor appreciated that.

"I think I'm struggling," he continued. "I think that this is...difficult to understand. I think it feels good when you worry about me. I think it feels good when you care about me."

"Hell, I couldn't shake you if I tried, kid."

Connor gave a slight smile, allowing himself to feel alright, if only for just that brief second.

"You're a good guy, Connor. The world needs more people like you. Stick around."

"...Affirmative, Lieutenant."

"Good. Now get your ass in bed. It's freezing out here."

"Understood."

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Normalcy._

Connor craved nothing more than he craved normalcy. However, as time passed, he felt normalcy was becoming more and more difficult to define. Normalcy used to be going to work every day, coming home with Hank, cooking dinner, tidying the house, and resting on the couch until Hank awoke the next morning. Normalcy was different now. Normalcy was waking up in Hank's bed, already late for work, instantly worrying about where Hank might be. It was changing clothes, avoiding himself in the mirror, and insisting that he was now ready to work. It was anxiety. Unease. 

So maybe he didn't want normalcy after all.

"I'm ready for work." Connor announced, adjusting his tie. 

Same as every morning.

"Nah, I don't feel like going in today." Hank stated simply, putting his arm over the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV.

"Pardon-?"

"Not gonna work today."

"Lieutenant, you must fulfil your obligations to the department."

"Nah. Come sit."

Furrowing his brow, Connor did as he was told.

"How you feelin' lately?"

"Confused." Connor stated, following Hank's eyes to the TV screen.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm not sure what I desire anymore."

"Spell it out for me Connor, I'm an old man."

"I was under the impression that what I sought most was  _normalcy_." Connor explained, leaning back against the couch. "But now I'm questioning what that entails."

"Don't know what's normal anymore?"

"Exactly."

"Ah, I get that." Hank agreed, nodding slightly. 

He draped his arm over Connor's shoulder, pulling the android into his side. Connor accepted the touch, resting his head on Hank's shoulder. Simple human signs of affection had been growing on him, he found himself enjoying the sensation of physical contact. He had enjoyed it quite a lot before such enjoyment had been stripped from him. He furrowed his brow slightly in recollection, every thought he had always seemed to return to what he had experienced. He missed enjoying touch. He missed it a lot. But for now, he would have to simply enjoy Hank.

"Well, hate to say it, but whatever you thought your normal was, you're never gonna get it back."

"That's...troubling."

"It's scary as hell." Hank affirmed. "But you're gonna get a new normal. It might not be as good as your old normal, it might not be better, but it'll be tolerable, and it'll be different."

"Different..." Connor echoed, thinking.

"Sometimes different is a good thing."

"How so?"

"Well, look at us. You remember when we first met?"

"I recall."

"God I wanted to kick your ass. You were such a smarmy bastard."

"I recall that as well."

"If you had told me that in a few months you'd be sleeping in my bed, I would have fuckin' kicked your ass."

"I believe that entirely."

"But here we are. And it's better, ain't it?"

"I suppose." Connor hummed, thinking. "In all honesty Lieutenant, I much prefer the familial relationship we have developed over time to the hostile relationship we began with."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all fuckin' sappy on me kid."

"Do you consider yourself a father figure to me?"

" _Pardon?"_

"You refer to me as son quite often."

"Well do you see me as a dad?"

"I do."

"Well there you go then."

"That did not answer my question at all."

"Hell no, you're not gonna drag me into your gushy feelings-fest."

"I simply want an answer to my question."

"And I want a mansion and a new car, but we don't all get what we want."

"Lieutenant."

"Nope."

" _Lieutenant._ "

"Not happening."

"If you see me as a son figure say nothing."

"Nothing."

"...I do not know how to interpret that." Connor paused, having accidentally caught himself in a paradox.

"...'Course I do." Hank huffed. "You're a little shit, you know that?"

"You've informed me of this before."

Hank sighed, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet. Connor was calm, Connor was resting against him on the couch, Connor had that same slight smile on his face that Hank had been missing for what seemed like years. Moments like this had become painfully rare in his life. Calm moments. Peaceful moments. Moments where Connor was content.

"Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You've been very patient with me lately."

"You don't gotta thank me for that."

"Alright."

Connor fell quiet again, watching the TV. He blinked slowly, allowing himself to relax for the time being. In moments like this, he couldn't help but notice his stress levels lowering. It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was warm. He closed his eyes.

"You fallin' asleep on me?"

"No. I am simply slowing my systems down."

"Is that like robot relaxing or-?"

"Yes. It is very relaxing."

"Then knock yourself out."

Connor processed Hank's words silently.  _Different._ He knew he would never reach his ideal normal again, he couldn't undo what had already been done. He couldn't forget. Maybe he would never be okay with being touched. Maybe he would never be okay with being called pretty. Maybe he would never even be content with his body again. But he would  _be._ He would keep going. He would build a new normal, a new normal where Hank took care of him. A normal where he could talk with Gavin without biting hostility. A normal where he was respected and considered by the DCPD. 

A new normal. A different normal.

It would never be better. He would never be able to see what happened as a positive change. But maybe different would be enough.

"You're really something, you know that?" Hank muttered.

"Am I?"

"You're so fuckin' alive."

"Clarify." Connor requested, tilting his head curiously.

"You've grown so fuckin' much since I met you. Look at you now. This isn't doing  _shit_ for your mission. Your work. Being here on the couch, not doing a fuckin' thing. But you're doing it."

"I believe I would rather be here than work."

"The fact that you would rather be here is proof enough. You're not the same plastic asshole of a machine that I met in the bar. You're way more fuckin' special than you know, Connor. That's not gonna change no matter  _what_ happens to you."

"I appreciate your saying so."

"I mean it."

_You're more special than you know._

"...Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it."

 _Different,_ Connor thought.  _Different but tolerable._

Maybe he could cope with a new normal after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading through my story, I hope you enjoyed what you read. I was very happy to see how some people connected with my portrayal of Connor. I hope any readers dealing with trauma of their own were able to find their own sort of connection in Connor's struggles, and I wish a good and healthy future to anybody in Connor's place. Thank you for reading.


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